Sunday, April 24, 2011

Hannah and her husband Nathaniel have always shared one particular fantasy—he wants to make love with another man, and she wants to watch.

When Hannah loses her job to a crumbling economy, she soon finds that an idle mind is indeed “the devil’s playground.” She latches onto the delectably naughty idea of bringing a third into the bedroom, but inviting a man they both know to join them could have far-reaching negative consequences. What they need is someone else. Someone anonymous.

After a hot night of ménage sex with a stunning escort, Hannah becomes obsessed with finding out the identity of their mystery male. Even when Nathaniel unexpectedly introduces another vibrant young man into their relationship, Hannah remains possessed by her fixation.

To what lengths will Hannah go to discover the real identity of "Mr. Anonymous?"

After setting her glass down on the coffee table, Hannah crossed her bare legs over her husband’s lap and laughed. “I can’t believe we’re talking like this. It’s so naughty!”

She ran her fingers down the front of his already unbuttoned shirt and leaned in to kiss his neck. He smelled like wet pine after coming in from the rain. She kissed him again, kissed his cheek this time. Every peck left a pink mark on his flesh. Tonight, she’d paint him with lipstick. Her lips would be her brush, and his skin her canvas. She’d been waiting all day, and now this dirty talk was gearing her up for an evening to remember.

“Sorry again about dinner,” she said with a deliberate pout.

Nathaniel shrugged. “Hey, it’s not your fault the power went out. I wasn’t all that hungry anyway.” Leaning toward the coffee table, he stacked some cheese onto a cracker and popped it in his mouth. Hannah felt awful that finger food was the best she could do after promising him a meal to die for. She nuzzled his chest as he chewed. From the time he’d walked through the door, she suspected it wasn’t food Nathaniel had on his mind. Her husband wasn’t usually a dirty talker, but he’d sure gotten into it tonight. Maybe it was the candles. The whole atmosphere of the power outage fostered creativity.

“What else do you want?” she asked. “If we had another man here right now, what would you do to him?”

Nathaniel made an Mmm sound deep in his throat as Hannah pulled his shirttails from his navy blue trousers. “Are you undressing me?” he asked.

“Are you avoiding the question?” she answered.

He kissed her forehead, leaving a dab of wet warmth in his wake. “Have you ever known me to avoid questions?” He chuckled as she pushed his shirt down over his shoulders and teased his pert nipple with her tongue. “Oh, you do have a talent for that.”

“You like it, huh?” She leaned across his chest and bit the other nipple as it stood erect. “Well, then, you’d better keep talking, mister. I want to see it in my mind.” Sitting up beside him, Hannah looked out across the candlelit living room. Her gaze fell into the rocking chair under the vast window of the sunroom extension. “If there was a handsome young man, like that guy Jameson from your office…if he was sitting in that rocking chair over there, what would you do to him?”

“What would I do?”

“Yes, what would you do?” Hannah chuckled as Nathaniel rose from the couch and wandered toward the window. “I’m waiting for an answer, Mister ‘I’m secure in my masculinity.’ How would you make that boy come?”

Nathaniel set his thick fingers against the shining oak of the rocking chair. With his back to Hannah, he raised his head to the raindrops drizzling down the great window. She hoped the electricity would never come back on; this naughtiness was much more entertaining than anything on television. Her insides sizzled.

Turning, Nathaniel met Hannah’s gaze from across the room. “If he was sitting in this chair right here?”

Hannah squirmed in her seat. Her panties were wet just thinking about charming Jameson, the young gay go-getter in the grey cubicle across from her husband’s. “Yes, if he was sitting there naked, all dark and delicious, what would you do to his flesh?”

“The first thing I would do,” Nathaniel replied, walking around the chair, “is touch his face.”

She squealed like a schoolgirl. “You would?” Grabbing a throw pillow, Hannah hugged it close to her chest. “Oh, I’d never have guessed that. Where on his face? And what would you touch him with?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “With my finger, you little minx.” He looked down into the rocking chair as though Jameson were really seated there. “I would brush my index finger down his cheek.”

Hannah cooed at the thought. “I’ve never touched a black man’s stubble. I wonder what it would feel like. Would it be fuzzy, do you think, or sharp like yours?”

“I imagine it would feel like mine,” he said, running a hand across his blondish five o’clock shadow. Nathaniel had an exquisite face: a squared jaw, a dimpled chin, a Greek nose, and a scorching look in his grey eyes every time a dirty thought crossed his mind.

“What would you do next?” Hannah asked, squeezing the square pillow closer to her chest. “I’m sure you wouldn’t spend the whole night touching his face.”

Standing upright beside the rocking chair, Nathaniel stuck his thumb in the air and wriggled it. “I’d put this in his mouth.”

Her idea seemed to bring a blush to her husband’s cheeks. Swinging her feet up onto the couch, she hid her smile behind the throw pillow and let out a throaty giggle. “Nathaniel, you’ve gone all shy on me!”

About the book

Trust when life knocks you to the ground and things look their worst, Fate has something better in store.

RJ Sommers has been dumped, his best friends have just tied the knot, and the final nail—his roommate’s lover just arrived from Texas to sweep him off his feet. Life just loves laughing at RJ. That is until Julian arrives.

Julian has been watching RJ, waiting for the chance to meet the vibrant entrepreneur. When RJ’s beau leaves for greener pastures, Julian takes the chance to crash a party RJ planned. When finding him in the crowd turns more into a rescue mission, Julian does what’s necessary to keep the other man from becoming a victim of an over-zealous suitor.

Discovering himself along the way through the love and support of his friends, RJ opens himself up to more than just the love of a new boyfriend. When he thinks life doesn’t like him anymore, something bigger and better than he’d ever dreamed is in store. If he can survive Julian’s persistence, his friend’s interference, and the loving affection of one yellow lab, he just might find more than he’s ever known his entire life.

An excerpt from the book

A cold nose rubbed into RJ’s arm, digging until he groaned. Then he was slurped by a tongue.

“Awright, awright, Samson. I got it. Daddy isn’t home yet.” RJ couldn’t even remember how he got home last night. At least he did make it home. His body ached, and it felt like he’d had a rough night. Laurence and Josh sure knew how to throw a party.

Holding a hand to his head, he stiffly rolled to sit up. “You, then me,” he muttered to the dog with the patience of a saint with a wagging tail. After lurching to his feet, he managed to stumble on wobbly legs across the room, aiming for the rear glass patio door. “Here ya go, big guy.”
The door opened and Samson was out like a shot. RJ knew just how he felt.

Blearily, he made the return trip, walked into the bedroom and froze solid, his heart slamming to a dead stop in his chest. Lying in RJ’s bed on his stomach, facing away—of course—was a person he didn’t know. “Shit,” he hissed. “What did you do, RJ?”

His bladder prompted him to do things in order. Avoiding the bed, he made it to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of fresh briefs out of a drawer on the way. Behind the door, he held himself on a flat palm to the facing wall as he emptied himself of probably a quart or two of fine liquor. Smacking his lips, they felt dry. Yep, drunk himself dry. He’d take a shower if he’d been alone. A splash on his face was the most luxury he could take for the moment.

First things first: he needed to see who was sleeping in Papa Bear’s bed.

Opening the door, he gazed over the now-flipped body splayed across his sheets. “Oh, mama.” That came home with me? His guest looked to still be asleep, a strong arm tossed over his head on the pillow, the other tucked under the sheet that was almost not even covering him, and RJ would bet a ten that he was cupping his cock in sleep.

A hard, broad chest, wide shoulders, brown hair, but it wasn’t dark, more candied… He tried to think, his eyes locked on the sleeping god in his bed. Caramel. Who did he know with that color hair? RJ wracked his brain. No one who would sleep with him. This guy was as unknown as a Catholic nun at his mom’s house.

“Babe, if you keep staring, I’m never going to be able to move.”

RJ startled. “You’re awake!” He stumbled until the bathroom door hit his ass, holding him up. The husky, sleep-drawled voice sent goose bumps over RJ. “Who-who are you?”

A gentle smile curved lusciously full lips. RJ licked his. Fuzzy memories of devouring those lips, or them devouring him, danced into his thoughts.

“Someone who’s been waiting over a year for you to get rid of that lazy ass you were letting screw you.”

“Huh?” he squeaked. With flat palms, he scrubbed his hands over his face, driving away the sleep and the remaining alcohol fumes. “He…you…”

Finally the gorgeous man in his bed opened his eyes and drifted to look at RJ. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself on an open hand, his elbow beneath him. Suddenly, RJ wished he was wearing a hell of a lot more than just underwear. An allover suit of armor might just fit the bill, because the way this guy was looking him over made his skin tight and his dick throb. No one had ever looked at him like the main dish of a seven-course meal. Screw that. RJ was the dessert.

He gulped noticeably. “Look, I appreciate you getting me home, but I don’t bring guys home—”

“That’s good to know, because you didn’t bring me home. I made sure you didn’t kill yourself last night after you got snookered off your ass.”

He raked a hand down his face, trying to remember. All there was in his mind was a swirl of fog.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Just as she stepped off the bottom step, she heard a noise at the front door. She hesitated, unsure what to do. Who could be visiting at this hour? Just when she expected to hear a knock, she heard something else instead. A key was being inserted into the lock, and right before her startled eyes, she watched the knob turn and the door open. Her gaze landed on a pair of army boots and slowly traveled upward, taking in the muscular body in military fatigues. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Ohmygod! Ryan had come home!

He appeared just as startled as she was. Halting in the threshold as their eyes meet, his rugged expression carved in granite. Only his eyes, those piercing blue orbs, showed any sign of life, if you could call it that. Shannon had a feeling that Ryan Hayes didn’t reveal any emotions that weren’t hardened by years of combat. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to speak and half expected him to back out and leave.

“Do you mind if I come in?” His deep voice was just as Shannon remembered. “It’s damn cold out here.”

For the first time she realized she was blocking his way. Swallowing, she stepped back enough for him to enter and close the door behind him. He dropped a large army bag on the floor by his feet, and shook off the snow onto the floor mat. All the while keeping his eyes trained on Shannon, as though she were the enemy. She took a nervous step further into the foyer, directly into the soft glow of the lamp that had been left on in the living room.

Ryan looked just like he did the last time she saw him. Big and tall, cloaked in that attitude of quiet strength he seemed to possess. His black hair cut in military fashion and suited his strong, square boned face. Though sporting a tiny scar over his left eyebrow and another, bigger one halfway down his left cheek he was still a handsome man. He eluded danger in practically every move he made, every glance. His eyes dropped, running over Shannon rapidly, making her painfully aware of her disheveled state.

She refused to reach up and smooth her hair back, knowing that it would do no good. The tiniest quirk on his full, sensuous mouth revealed he found her condition amusing. Quickly, his lips thinned almost menacingly when his gaze narrowed on her breasts. It was then that Shannon reached up and pulled her ruined blouse together where the buttons had come off. She finally found her voice.

“Welcome home, Ryan.”

“Where is everyone?” His tone seemed hard, gruff, more commanding than inquiring. He slipped off his jacket and hung it on a peg on the back of the door, and then bent to slip off his boots.

“Mom went to bed with a headache. Sheila must be putting the kids to bed. The rest won’t get here until tomorrow night.” Shannon couldn’t help but notice the quick glance he shot her way when she called his mother mom. She watched quietly as he set his boots against the wall and stood, towering over her again.

“It’s just as well. I’m tired as hell and want to turn in early myself. But first, I want to find something to eat. I’m starved.” Closing the distance between them, Ryan halted when he reached Shannon. “Is that okay?”

Shannon felt a telltale heat rush up to her cheeks when she realized she was watching Ryan’s mouth form the words. What the heck was wrong with her? Jet lag, that’s what. She gave her head a little shake. She must be more tired than she thought. As his words became clear, it dawned on her that she was once again blocking his way.

“Oh! I’m, ah sorry.” Instead of moving to let him pass, she turned and began to walk in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll be glad to fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” He was right on her heels.

“That’s okay.” Shannon pushed the kitchen door open and flipped on the light switch on the wall next to it. “Sheila put a plate for me in the oven and if I know her, she left enough for two. I don’t mind sharing.” Not waiting for Ryan to acknowledge her, Shannon took the potholders from the counter by the stove, opened the oven door and retrieved the plate. “Just as I thought.”

She turned and showed him the full plate of corn beef hash. But the expression on Ryan’s face almost made her drop it. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and he’d turned pale, his lips were thin as a muscle twitched in his jaw that had hardened in an effort to hold back that he was in obvious pain. Intense pain. He was clutching the island counter in the middle of the kitchen as if it alone was holding him upright. “Ryan!” Shannon set the plate down and rushed to his side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He held a hand up in a silent warning for her to back off. She stopped immediately and waited for another sign from him, afraid he was having some kind of attack. After a few more seconds, he sucked in several deep breaths and released them slowly. It was clear by his expression that he hated showing her even that one small weakness. It was very clear that he didn’t intend talking about it. Shannon knew the moment the pain left his body when his expression relaxed.

“You said something about sharing your dinner?” He pulled out one of the barstools from around the island and sank down onto it. Shannon hesitated for a moment, fighting the urge to question him. Something was terribly wrong, she just knew it, but she didn’t know Ryan well enough to feel she had the right to ask him anything personal. The look in his cold eyes warned her she’d be shot down before she managed to speak the first word. Forcing a smile she was far from feeling, she turned to get a second plate.

“I’ll thank you not to mention what just occurred to my family,” Ryan surprised her by saying while her back was turned to him.

“If that’s what you want,” Shannon responded, opening a cupboard door. She glanced with surprise at where the plates were usually stacked. Glasses had replaced them. Marsha had obviously done some rearranging since the last time Shannon had been there. She opened up several other doors before finding the plates, stacked on the second shelf. Standing on tip toe she strained to reach them.

“Here, let me help you.”

“Oh!” Feeling Ryan brush up against her, Shannon spun around before she could think. Suddenly, it wasn’t her backside feeling his hardened muscles. Since he was in the process of reaching over her head for a plate, they were now flush against each other. Her breasts flattened against his hard chest, the lower halves of their bodies were shockingly aligned, and their thighs were touching. Mouths within inches of each other, their breath mingled. It was crazy but Shannon was sure she felt their hearts beating in rhythm. She began to tingle everywhere and held her breath.

Their gazes met and held and Ryan became motionless, his arm still above her head reaching for the plate. It struck Shannon that she was seeing the dangerous side of him, the soldier sizing up the situation and preparing for action. Only in this case, what would that be? She refused to let her mind go there.

The Simple Rules of Saturday Evening Romance

Saturday Evening Romance is an excerpt blog. It's open to all authors of the romance genre provided they follow a few simple rules. The premise is simple - here we share excerpts for all our readers to enjoy.

1. This is an excerpt blog. Post an excerpt and nothing else. No contests, no reviews, no check out my latest interview. Excerpts only.

2. Post responsibly. Be polite. Don't spam the blog or hog the blog by posting every single day. Share!

3. Be polite. Be very polite.

4. Please - no young adult or Christian stories. Most of the content here at Saturday Evening Romance is ADULT in nature, or will link you to excerpts that are adult in nature. We like it that way. If you write YA or inspirational, let's not offend anyone by bringing them here. So police yourself.